The Orc and the Axe
by Nodam
Summary: Gretkar and Gruickshak, two orc brothers, find themselves in Skyrim, with an ancient axe and empty pockets...
1. Chapter 1: The Winking Skeever

Gretkar and Gruickshak sat in the Winking Skeever, downing ale after ale. The bartender watched them carefully, and it started making Gretkar upset. No one trusted orcs in Skyrim, and he was starting to realize that coming here with his brother may not have been such a good idea. They had come at the height of the civil war, and after the Stormcloaks had taken over, life in Skyrim was just one racist bastard after another. But there was good money to be made in Skyrim, especially for treasure hunters like Gretkar and Gruickshak. They had heard about the Dwemer machines in the Markarth caves, and the other various artifacts that sold for very high prices. But so far, they had no luck.

"This Nord mead tastes like troll dung." Gruickshak complained. "And you would know what troll dung tastes like…" Gretkar retorted. Gruickshak growled and put his mug down. "Did you notice that axe?" Gretkar asked his little brother. "Looks expensive, don't it?" Gruickshak turned to look at what his brother was talking about. He saw a large blue bone-axe mounted on the wall above the bar. "Looks like an ancient Nord weapon. I wonder how much that would sell for, hmm?" Gretkar grinned through his enormous fangs. "You suggestin' we take it right from under his nose?" Gruickshak asked. "Naw…" Gretkar stroked his black, tangled beard. "How much coin you got?" he asked Gruickshak. "Ten septims." He answered. "Gimme four, and I'll go rent us a room. At night, we'll come down here, swipe the axe, and break for it." Gretkar explained, now twisting the hairs on his chin, ripping some out. "Now that's a plan I can follow!" Gruickshak smiled.

Gretkar made his way over to the bar, and leaned over the edge, motioning for the bartender to come over. "How much for a room?" Gretkar asked, reaching for his coinpurse. "Ten septims for one night." The bartender said, scowling at the orc. Gretkar laid the money on the counter, ignoring the fact that the bartender was charging him more just because he was an orc. As the bartender rooted through his drawer for a key, Gretkar pointed at the axe on the wall. "What's that beauty?" he asked. "It's called Brekyeir." The bartender said as he drew a small bronze key from under the counter. "I found it in an old Nordic ruin, the Bleak Falls Barrow. I pried it from the cold, dead hands of King Mystrikk myself." The bartender rolled up his sleeve to reveal a large scar moving along his forearm. "But not before he did this to me." Gretkar raised an eyebrow. "A dead king cut you?" The bartender shook his head. "I didn't expect an orc to know anything about Skyrims history…" Gretkar frowned, not happy with being called uneducated. Gretkar was actually fairly intelligent for his kind, and he did not take kindly to having his intelligence insulted, but he decided to let this one pass. He didn't want to cause any unnecessary trouble. "In the belly of Skyrims tombs, some ancient dead get restless. They say that our ancestors once betrayed a Dragon, and the dragon cursed them so that even death was not absolute. We call the undead the Draugr…" The name sent a shiver down Gretkar's hairy back. _Draugr_. He looked up at the axe. It now no longer seemed majestic and powerful, but evil and cold, cold like the snow that blanketed this wretched land. First war, then dragons, then undead… Gretkar knew coming to Skyrim was a bad idea… "Here… first door on the right." The bartender said as he handed Gretkar the key. "We'll be kicking you out at nine. Don't make too much noise." Gretkar took the key, and motioned for Gruickshak to follow him. His brother stood up, picked up his battle axe, and followed Gretkar down the hall. Gretkar unlocked the door, let his brother in, looked around to ensure that no one was following them, and he shut the door.

That night, Gretkar tried to get some rest before robbing the inn, but he couldn't keep the image of the Draugr out of his head. He imagined delving deep into an ancient dungeon , and finding a corpse sitting on a throne of gold, with jewels and weapons made of ebony and silver, and reaching down to take a handful of treasures, when the corpse opens its eyes, reaches out a bony purple hand, and pulls Gretkar into the dark depths of death…

Gretkar shook his head, shaking the image out of his head. He looked over at his big, dumb brute of a brother lying in his bed of hay, sleeping like a baby. A really ugly baby. Gretkar gently woke his brother, whispering. "Get up… I think the innkeeper's asleep." Gruickshak rolled out of bed, and started packing his belongings. Gretkar made Gruickshak carry his bag, as he was much bigger than Gretkar, and the opened the door into the long, pitch black hallway. They crept down the hall silently, or at least, as silently as two orcs could. They entered the dining area, and saw the axe, Brekyeir, mounted on the wall. "I'll get it." Gretkar whispered to his brother. Gruickshak was about to respond when Gretkar clasped his hand over Gruickshak's mouth. "Ssssh…" he said. Gruickshak nodded and waited. Gretkar tiptoed around the counter, and stood underneath the axe. He reached up, and lifted the weapon from it's place. When his hand touched the axe, he began hearing voices. At first, he thought it was Gruickshak, and he spun around to face his brother, but then realized that the voices were coming from inside his head. He couldn't understand the language the voices were speaking, but he could make out some words, like Yol and Ro Dah. The stared at the axe and realized just how powerful and… evil this object was. He knew it would bring him and his brother nothing but trouble, but he also knew that this artifact was far too important to spend the rest of its days on the wall of an inn. He walked over to the door of the inn, unlocked it, and led himself and his Gruickshak out into the ice cold streets of Solitude…

As the two orc treasure hunters left the gates of Solitude, out into the harsh, savage world of Skyrim, Gruickshak looked at his brother. "Now that we've got the axe, where we gonna go an' sell it?" He asked. "We're not selling it…" Gretkar said. "We're taking it somewhere very important." Gretkar brushed the snow from his brothers' hair. "Where's that?" Gruickshak asked him. "We're taking it… to Bleak Falls Barrow…"

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2: Brekyeirs' song

Just above the small town of Riverwood, stood the ominous Bleak Falls Barrow. The ancient crypt held many dark and terrible secrets, and it kept watch, day and night, over the valley it dwarfed and its inhabitants, who had by now become very paranoid, afraid that someday, something might just come crawling out of the crypts, and into their lives…

Gretkar and Gruickshak trudged through the waist high snow that blanketed the usually bare plains of Whiterun. The ancient Nord axe, Brekyeir, was strappd to Gretkars back, held on by a thick leather belt, overtop his thick mammoth-fur coat. The sleet whipped at the orcs faces, and the ice clung to beards like spiders cling to walls. Gretkar and Gruickshak were used to snow on Black Rock, but not nearly as much as there was in Skyrim, and this was one of the coldest winters Skyrim had ever seen.

"I'm cold…" Gruickshak whined. "How much further to Riverwood?" Gretkar grumbled. "I know you're cold and so am I, but Riverwood is still an hour or two away. You'll have to be patient…" Gruickshak threw his bag to the ground and sat in the snow, crossing his legs. Grektar turned around to face his brother, and raised an eyebrow. "The hell are you doing?" he asked. "Im po-tessing." Gruickshak growled. "Come again?" Gretkar asked. "Im PO-TESSING!" Gruickshak shouted, slamming his fists into the snow. Gretkar broke into laughter. "You mean you're protesting!" Gretkar put his face in his palm and laughed aloud, making his brother angrier and angrier. Gruickshak stood up, and slammed his fist into his open palm. "I'm here sittin' in the snow, freezing to death, and you're _laughing _at me?" Gruickshak stepped closer to his brother, who was still laughing to tears. "I followed you all the way out here in the freezing cold, when we could have already sold that bloody axe and be rich and warm!" Gruickshak shouted, his voice resonating through the empty tundra. Gretkar payed no attention to his little-bigger brothers complaints and turned around to keep walking, still chuckling. Gruickshak was now boiling with rage, and charged at Gretkars back, sending a very surprised orc sprawling into the snow. Gretkar stood up, dazed, and faced Gruickshak. "What was that for?" he asked, wiping the snow from his face. But Gruickshak didn't listen. He titled his great head backwards, and let out an earth shattering roar that was so loud, it sent Gretkar flying into the snow bank again. But even Gruickshak seemed surprised at how powerful his shout was, and he was even more surprised when he found out that it wasn't his. He slowly turned around to see a huge Sabre Cat climbing the hill behind him, baring its razor-sharp fangs. As it crawled towards Gruickshak, he backed up slowly, his hand on the hilt of his orcish sword, which was sheathed at his side. He carefully stepped close to his brother who was still lying face down in the snow. "Sorry to bother you Gretkar…" he whispered "But we've got company." Gretkar stood up quickly, which startled the cat, and it lunged towards the two orcs, which to it, were like tiny mice to a house cat. Gruickshak drew his sword, destroying the sheath on the way out, and cut the monsters foreleg as it landed on Gretkar. Gretkar slid on the snow out from underneath it, jumped up, and spun around, facing the beast head on. The cat stared him down, with its forelegs outstretched and its bottom high in the air. Gruickshak could only stand and watch the staring competition between the two, with both of his hands clenched tightly around his sword. The cat then lunged at Gretkar again, who rolled out of the way, and pulled Brekyeir off his back, ripping the belt. He heard the voices again, but this time they were chanting…

_Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin, Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!_

The words, although he could not understand them, pumped his heart with courage. His cold, furry hands strangled the bone hilt of the battleaxe, and he held it at his side, ready to strike. "Here kitty kitty…" he whispered under his breath. The Sabre Cat swung its paw foreward, and Gretkar knocked it aside with his axe, digging the steel deep into the cat's paw. It howled in pain, and retracted its leg. Gruickshak charged it from behind, and plunged his sword into the beasts hind leg, sending crimson blood spraying across the white snow. The cat spun around, knocking Gruickshak aside with it's tail. He fell into the snow, and struggled to stand up. The cat pinned him down, and prepared to slit his neck with its two long teeth. Gruickshak closed his eyes and prepared for the worst… but it never came. When he opened his eyes again, the beasts head was laying at his feet, and its body was laying a few feet away. Gruickshak looked over to see Gretkar with the axe tight in his grip, and blood spattered across his face. Brekyeir glowed in his hands, illuminating the darkening landscape. The chanting was now pounding in Gretkars' head, and he could not even hear his brother calling to him. All he heard was the deep throated singing, and the pounding drum…

_Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan! Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!_

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3: Bleak Falls Barrow

Something… evil… is stirring in the Bleak Falls Barrow…

It thirsts for blood, but even more, thirsts to be freed. It is entombed in the darkest depths of the tombs, underneath the corpses of Nord soldiers and kings. It is beneath the Frost Spiders lair, beneath the Dragon Claws door, and beneath the hall of the dead…

It senses that someone is returning to it… no, not someone… something. An artifact, perhaps a weapon, which was stolen from it. All it needs is for the artifact to return, and then it can be free again. But someone is carrying the artifact to it. No, _two _someones. They're not Nord, they're not even human. It senses that they will not surrender the artifact so easily… But they will see their mistake… they _will_ surrender the artifact.

Or they will be broken…

Gretkar and Gruickshak reached the village of Riverwood, and not a moment too soon, for just as they were entering the village, the weather became extremely foul. The snow whipped up into the air, lashing out at people who found themselves unlucky enough to be caught outside. The sky was dark, which made seeing through the snowstorm all the more difficult. But the two orc adventurers were inside now, resting by a roaring fireplace in the Sleeping Giant Inn. Sven, the bard, played a little tune on his lute, and Gretkar noticed one line that he kept repeating in his song:

_The Dragonborn, whose coming was fortold_

_Returned from Sovngarde, a hero of old_

_The Dragonborn,born to slay the wyrms_

_As Alduin, whose heart was cold…_

Gretkar stood up and walked over to Sven. "In your song, you keep repeating the word Dragonborn." Gretkar asked him. "What is the Dragonborn?" Sven burst into laughter. "Surely you must be joking!" he bellowed. "Have you been living under a rock for the past year? The Dragonborn, or the _Dovahkiin_, was a hero who saved us from the Dragons and destroyed Alduin, the world eater." All of a sudden, Gretkars head spun. He had heard that word before… in the chanting in his head. _Dovahkiin…Dovahkiin... _Suddenly the door to the Sleeping Giant burst wide open, and a large man in blue armour with a halberd strapped to his back burst in, bringing ice and snow in with him. "Gunjar!" The man shouted. "Pour me a nice big mug! I've just finished guard duty!" The man removed his helmet placed it on the floor, and kicked off his boots. He sat down in the chair that Gretkar had been sitting in, soaking it instantly. "Sven my boy, play me the war song of Ulfric Stormcloak!" the man said, as he pulled snow from his thick blonde beard and tossed it into the fire. Sven smiled and began playing on his lute.

_The Thalmor came, the elvish scum they were._

_With mighty ships, they began their purge_

_Of mighty Talos, they mocked him so_

"_Half God, Half Man!" they said "It cannot be so!"_

_But Ulfric came, and faced them down_

_And fought King Torygg for the right to the crown._

_Now Skyrim's free, outsiders gone_

_But our honoured dead, not forgotten in Sovngarde…_

_Long live, long live, long live Ulfric Stormcloak!_

Sven strummed the final chord, and the man in the armor cheered loudly, making Gretkar wince. "Long live Ulfric!" he shouted. The Innkeeper brought the man his drink, and he downed it in one gulp. He wiped his lips, and then the room fell silent. The man had only just noticed the two orcs, and he avoided looking at them. Finally, he spoke, but still looked away from them. His words were soft, but sharp all the same. "What're two orcs doing in Riverwood?" he asked "We're a peaceful village, we don't want any trouble…" Gretkar frowned. "And we're not here to cause any. We're just adventurers, passing by." The man stood up. "I've met my fair share of orcs… they don't just _pass by_." He said, now looking Gretkar dead in the eyes. "I assure you…" Gretkar said. "We'll be gone by morning." Gruickshak just sat in his chair, listening, but not intervening. Gretkar had always taught his little brother that he should let him do the talking, and if need be, Gruickshak can do the pummeling. The man in the blue armor got up and made his way to the door. He slipped his feet into his fur boots, and fastened the straps. He readjusted his helmet, and held his halberd in his hand. He looked at the two orcs before leaving. "My name's Ralof. I'm the captain of the guard. Cause any trouble, and you'll be answering to me." He opened the door, letting a cold draft fly through the inn, making the fire flicker violently. He stepped outside, shut the door, and walked into the blizzard.

It was morning in Riverwood again, and the snowstorm had stopped, making way for the sun to come streaming down on to the little village. But the village was still in the frightening shadow of the mountain, and the dungeon that sat atop it. Gretkar and Gruickshak had already left the Inn and were well on their way up the mountain, hoping to avoid speaking to that guard Ralof again. Their bellies were full from their breakfast, which had cost them their last septims, but they were convinced that when they returned, they would be so wealthy they would never have to eat mouldy bread and raw eggs again.

The Bleak Falls Barrow loomed above the brothers, making the mountain seem all that more frightening. The sun was still high in the sky, but that seemed to not comfort them at all. "What do you think we'll find in there?" Gruickshak asked his brother, who was examining Brekyeir as they walked. "I'm not sure…" Gretkar said. "Perhaps gold…" Gruickshak shook his head. "No, I mean like monsters..." he said. "Oh." Gretkar said. He suddenly imagined the Draugr again, the cold, dead corpse twisting its head, its bones creaking. "Spiders, possibly Skeevers…" he said. "Nothing too bad…"

The orcs reached the top of the mountain, and walked along the top until they found themselves at the steps of the Bleak Falls Barrow. Stone spikes shot up over the building, resembling a ribcage, and the crypt was the beating heart. The snow covered ancient Nord Runes carved into the stone tiles, and the steps crumbled at Gretkar and Gruickshak walked up. All of a sudden, Gruickshak howled in pain behind Gretkar, and he spun around to see an archer on the other side of the entrance, reloading her longbow. Two other warriors came out of hiding, with swords drawn and sharp. They charged the brothers, whouting insults. Gretkar brandished Brekyeir, and Gruickshak pulled an iron arrow out from his back. "It's not bad…" he said "I can handle the archer." He let out a battle cry, and drew his sword. The two bandits attacked Gretkar, who knocked one aside with his elbow and parried the other with his axe. He smashed the bandit in the nose with his pommel and spun around, decapitating one bandit. The other knelt on the ground, his hand clasped over his bloody nose. Gretkar raised Brekyeir over his head, and cleaved the bandit in two. Gruickshak dodged the arrows the archer fired at him, hiding behind pillars or rubble. When she realized there were no more arrows in her quarrel, she dropped her bow and drew her sword. "You never should have come here!" she shouted as she charged Gruickshak, who simply removed her head from her neck as she ran by. Her body stumbled and rolled down the steps, landing near her fallen comrades. The orcs made sure that there were no more bandits, and then strode up the final steps to the dungeon. Two great doors stood in front of them, with large carvings of dragons carved into the stone. Gretkar placed his hand on the door, and shoved it open…

So the bearers of the artifact were stronger than it thought… but it is still not worried. The Barrows only house the dead, and that was not going to change anytime soon…


	4. Chapter 4: The faces in the stone

_They're coming in… my treasure is coming home…_

Gretkar and Gruickshak stepped into the enormous entrance hall to the Bleak Falls Barrow. Gretkar looked down at Brekyeir, the ancient Nord axe that led him here. It was now glowing bright blue, like a magic torch.

"Well at least we won't run out of light!" Gretkar said, trying to lift his brothers' spirit.

"I don't like this place…" Gruickshak responded. "Look at the walls…" Gretkar shone the light from his axe onto the walls, and let out a small gasp. Carvings of great dragons locked in combat with puny soldiers covered the walls, nothing like the crude cave drawings Gretkar and Gruickshak were used to at home in Black Rock. As Gretkar walked along the walls, he could have sworn he saw the stone fire coming from the dragons' mouths move and flicker. Sometimes he would notice the dragons eyes roll towards him, and it made him feel very uneasy. Four great pillars held up the roof, like the four strong legs of a dragon. The carvings were all over the room, and the ended on either side of the gold doors on the other side of the room. Gretkar suddenly realized that everything he assumed of this place was wrong. He thought it would be a rundown dungeon, with Skeevers and Bugs, but he now realized how sacred this tomb was, and how beautiful it really was on the inside. But he knew they were only in the entrance, and it was bound to get worse. They moved to the doors, and saw a small stone chest and a weapon rack. Gruickshak excitedly ran over to the chest and held on to the lid.

"What do ya think is gonna be in here?" he said, nervous. "Is this the gold you were talking about? Or maybe jewels or silver weapons?" Gruickshak lifted the lid, but it was locked shut. He tried again, but it wasn't going to open anytime soon. "Argh!" he shouted, furious. He grabbed a battle axe from the weapon rack and slammed it down on the chest, but the axe snapped in two, and made a deafening clang ring across the hall. Gretkar knelt down beside the chest, and examined the lock.

"Gruickshak…" he said "Look around for something small, like needles or pins. I'm going to try to pick the lock!" Gruickshak went around the hall, lifting stones and searching in urns, but all he found were bones and rusty helmets. "Check the bodies outside!" Gretkar called over "Maybe they have something!" Gruickshak opened the great stone doors and stepped into the blinding white light, while Gretkar examined the lock some more. It was expertly made, and was going to take quite a bit of time of skill to open, but Gretkar had some experience in lockpicking, as it was a very useful skill for a treasure hunter to know.

A few minutes later, Gruickshak came back in the hall, covered in snow. "Found some!" he said, smiling through his fangs, as he held open his hand, which contained a small knife, and seven small needles.

"Perfect!" Gretkar cheered, and he took the needles and knife from his brother. "Good work!" he said. He knelt down beside the chest again. He inserted the knife into the lock, and put a needle in the keyhole. He twisted the knife and the lock moved, but it pinched and snapped the needle. Gretkar fished the missing piece of needle from the keyhole and put in another one, and tried again. The lock moved further this time, but the needle snapped again. "Third time's the charm…" he muttered under his breath. He put in the third needle, and very carefully twisted the knife. The lock moved, and he pulled out the needle, to let the lock pass. The then put the needle back in, to poke out the spring. He heard a click, and the chest lid popped open a bit. Gruickshak roared in delight, and lifted the chest lid. Their excitement fell to the floor when they saw what was inside. Three fur coats lay inside the chest, wrapped around two iron swords and a coinpurse.

Gruickshak stamped the floor in anger. "What!" he shouted "All that for a freaking fur coat!"

"Calm down…" Gretkar said "This must be the bandits' belongings. They must have been staying in the Barrows. How much was in that coin purse?" Gruickshak poured the contents of the small cloth bag into his hand and counted the gold. "Ten septims…" he said. Gretkar stood up, took one of the swords, and slid it underneath his belt. "Well then…" he said as he opened the gold doors that led further into the dungeon. "I guess we'll just have to keep looking!"

The orcs stepped into the next room, which was even larger than the first. Three obelisks stood in the center of the room, in front of a portcullis which led into the next room. Beside the obelisks was a lever. Gretkar walked over to the obelisks and examined each of their three faces. They were all identical, with a carving of a fish on one face, a snake on the second, and a wolf on the third.

"What do they mean?" Gruickshak asked, puzzled. Gretkar shook his head in confusion. "I'm not sure…" he said "Try pulling that lever… see if it opens the gate." Grucikshak walked over to the lever, and gave it a tremendous shove. It slid down, then sprang back up. "Aaaaagh!" Gruickshak howled in pain. He turned around to show Gretkar four small darts planted in his back.

"What happened?" Gretkar asked him, rushing over to help remove the darts. "They came out of the wall!" Gruickshak whined. "I pulled the lever and they came out of the wall!" Gretak scanned the walls, looking for a hole the darts could have shot out of. He then noticed two enormous, bearded stone faces carved into the wall. Their mouths were wide open, with images carved into them. In between the two faces was a hole in the wall, showing where the second face had been. The first face had a snake carved into its mouth, and the third mouth held an image of a fish. Gretkar realized that the images on the faces matched the images on the obelisks, and he left his brother and rushed back to the obelisks. He placed his hand on the first one, and twisted it, so that the image of the snake faced him. He then rushed to the third obelisk, and twisted it so that the fish faced him. He left the middle obelisk as it was, with the wolf facing him.

"Gruickshak…" Gretkar said. "You're not going to like this, but I need you to pull the lever again." Gruickshak grumbled, and the pulled the large stone lever again. He winced in pain again as four more darts plunged into his back. Gretkar twisted the middle obelisk so that the snake now faced him. "Pull it again!" he shouted, and Gruickshak pulled back on the lever. Four more darts struck him, and he was beginning to become very angry.

"This is stupid!" he shouted "How 'bout you pull the lever this time?" Gretkar was hesistant, but after realizing that there was no way to convince his brother, he twisted the second obelisk so that the fish was facing him.

He then stepped over to the lever and whispered "Third time's the charm…"

He pulled on the lever, which slid all the way back and made a clicking noise. The Iron portcullis slowly lifted, and a smile broke out on Gretkars' face. Gruickshak watched angrily as his brother pulled the lever unscathed, while he still had eight to remove from his back. Gretkar happily walked over to the raised gate, gestured for his brother to follow, and he stepped into the next room…

_So they are strong AND intelligent…_

_But not to worry…_

_I will be reawakened… I can feel them coming closer…_

_And they have my treasure…_

_I will be reawakened, and when I am…_

_Skyrim will fall…_


	5. Chapter 5: Draugr

Gretkar and Gruickshak stepped into the next room of the Bleak Falls Barrow, using the glowing axe Brekyeir to light up the way. The next room they entered was much smaller than the previous one, and it was dimly lit with torches along the walls. Gretkar walked over to one and examined it.

"Evertorch…" Gretkar said. "Will burn forever unless put out…" Gretkar snuffed one out and put it in his pack. "May come in handy…" he said.

They moved through that room, examining more wall carvings. Gretkar saw carvings now of large armies in battle, and he saw carvings of giants and bears being slaughtered, and Gretkar assumed that the carvings must represent victories that the ancient Nords had earned. There was a small wooden door at the other end of the room, and Gruickshak walked over and opened it.

"Gretkar…" Gruickshak said, trying to get the attention of his brother who was still examining the walls. "You'll want to see this…" He said, in awe. Gretkar looked over and let out a gasp. "Praise Gurtogg…" he whispered "We've found the hall of the dead…" The next room was the largest they had seen yet, going on for what seemed to be like forever. The walls were lined with shelves, on which sat open stone coffins. The orcs stepped inside, and were immediately hit with a wall of stench. It smelled like rotting flesh, which was most likely exactly where the smell was coming from. Gretkar looked down at Brekyeir, which was now, to his surprise, glowing bright red. He advanced into the hall slowly, watching for traps. As the two moved down the hall, Gretkar had the dreadful feeling that they were not alone. The walls of the room seemed to close in on them, and Gretkar felt a bead of sweat slide down his face. "What's that?" Gruickshak asked, obviously just as nervous as his brother. "What's what?" Gretkar asked back. "That noise…" Gruickshak responded. "Can't you hear it?" Gretkar strained his ears. Was there something his brother could hear that he couldn't? He listened intently, and at first he couldn't hear anything but the rattle of Gruickshaks' armour, but eventually, he started hearing other noises too. He heard footsteps, but more like a foot being dragged across the floor rather than taking a step. He heard the twang of a bowstring being plucked, and the bone-chilling sound of rusty metal being slid across stone. Gretkar looked behind them into the darkness… nothing but dead men, resting eternally in their open lid coffins. But their eyes… still wide open, they seemed to follow the pair as they made their way down what seemed to be an endless hallway. The more Gretkar watched them, the more it seemed to him like the corpses were watching them. He thought he could see them turn their heads as they walked by, or their eyes roll upwards as if to stare at them. Gretkar walked at a quicker pace, and he could finally see the end of the hallway, the wooden door dimly illuminated by an evertorch. Gretkar walked quickly, hoping to leave this wretched room as soon as possible. Gretkar spun around to tell his brother to hurry up, and suddenly, his body was frozen in place. His brother walking slowly, not paying attention to anything, least of all the walking corpses that crept up on him. Gretkar wanted to shout out to his brother, but all he could muster was a whisper: "Draugr…" The Draugr walked slowly, their rotting feet sliding across the stone floor. They said nothing, but Gretkar could see their jaws swinging wildly. Their cold fingers were wrapped around blue bone-blade swords, with jagged, broken edges. Gretkar felt cold air wrap every inch of his body, and fear wrapped itself around his throat… only it wasn't fear. A frozen, blue hand was wrapped his neck, digging its broken fingernails into his flesh. He spun around with Brekyeir, slicing the Draugr in half. Now all the cadavers in the hall were rising, lifting the blades they had been buried with. Gruickshak finally noticed what was happening, and he drew his sword, roaring, not realizing that he had just awoken even more. He plowed through the undead, trying to reunite with his brother up ahead. Blue Draugr blood painted the walls as the two orcs battled with the undead, but more and more kept coming. Worse yet, even if a Draugr was down, it wasn't out. The first one that Gretkar had cut in half was still crawling along the ground, swing at Gretkars' feet until he embedded the axe in its skull. Gretkar was slowly but surely carving his way through the horde, and so was Gruickshak, but slightly more effectively. Finally, Gretkar got to the door, with Gruickshak at his back, protecting him. Gretkar grabbed the doorknob and twisted, but it was locked tight. "Watch out!" Gretkar warned as he raised the glowing red battleaxe over his head, and brought it down on the door. Flames burst from Brekyeir, blasting the door to pieces and sending Draugr flying. The orcs jumped through the doorway, and found that they were on a long, narrow bridge over an enormous chasm which held a violently flowing river. Draugr flooded through the door on the other side of the bridge, waving the ancient weapons wildly. Gretkar and Gruickshak rushed to the middle of the bridge, and stood back to back, facing the foes. Draugr piled in through both doors, some being shoved off the bridge by their allies, tumbling into the rushing waters. As soon as the undead creatures were in range, the orc brothers began fighting. Gretkar was batting Draugr off the bridge with his axe, which was now glowing so bright it was beginning to burn his hands, while Gruickshak used his brawn to toss undead off the bridge while running others through with his sword. The Draugr were slow and the orcs were fast, which was an advantage, but the Draugr had numbers, and the orcs would eventually tire. An arrow whistled through the cave and landed in Gretkars' shoulder, who screamed in pain, but did not stop fighting. The pile of bodies was piling in front of him, and he realized there was no hope. The Draugr would keep coming, and now that they had archers, it wouldn't be much longer before all that was left of the brothers were bones. Gretkar searched desperately for an escape, but there was none to be found. Unless…

"Jump!" Gretkar shouted over his shoulder. "What?" His brother shouted back, confused. "We can't win! We only have one option. Jump!" "You're insane!" Gruickshak shouted back. "Of course I am…" he muttered, and he quickly wrapped his arm around his brothers waist, and he leaned to the left, plummeting off the bridge, and taking his brother with him. Gruickshak was shouting and cursing as they fell, and Gretkar just shut his eyes, and waited for impact. With a sudden thump, they hit soft, but solid ground. Gretkar opened his eyes, his arm no longer around Gruickshak, and looked down. They were floating, still thousands of metres above the river, on a soft, invisible substance. Gretkar tried to stand up, but the "floor" twisted, sending him falling onto his back. Gruickshak was obviously not having any easier of a time trying to keep his balance, and Gretkar looked up to see Draugr leaping off the bridge, landing on the material, bouncing off, and being thrown into the air, until they shattered into broken bones and rotting flesh. Gretkar noticed that every time a Draugr hit the material, the entire floor between the rock walls would vibrate violently. But what was this strange, invisible material?

Gretkar raised Brekyeir over his head, and swung it into the floor, and when it hit, it rebounded sending Brekyeir flying across the chasm. It landed some feet away, and bounced away, until finally stopping. Gretkar crawled over to the axe, and tried to pick it up. He held it by the hilt and lifted, but it was stuck. He pulled with all his might, and finally it was free, but covered in a white, sticky substance. Suddenly, a wave of realization rushed over Gretkar. He crawled to one of the rock walls, laid his ear on the ground, and looked across the floor. He saw the floor was made of thick, translucent string, woven in some sort of… web.

Gretkar looked around for his brother, and called his name, but he had disappeared. Then he looked up. Dozens of white cocoons were hanging to the bottom of the bridge, like and Gretkar saw one moving. It was twisting and turning, trying desperately to be set free. Gretkar heard crawling on the rock walls around him, but he was paying too much attention to the ghastly objects hanging from the bridge. He looked behind him, searching for what had stolen his brother. Hundreds of creatures scuttled along the walls, flowing out of holes, dragging more bodies wrapped in webbing behind them. Suddenly, something struck Gretkar, just below his neck. His entire body went cold as ice, then scalding hot, then limp. He could do nothing but watch as one of the spiders crawled over to him on its web, its eight beady eyes black like night. 


	6. Chapter 6: Escape

_Here they are... finally, I have them in my grasp. And Brekyeir is calling out to me… calling out to its master. I will let me minions deal with the intruders, and I will come out when the time is right, and when I have Brekyeir. Skyrim will tremble in fear when the realize… the Draugr are rising again…_

Gretkar woke up, his vision blurry, and he found that he was unable to move. His arms were bound tightly to his sides, cutting off blood flow to his hands. He couldn't even feel his hands, and it made him nervous. When his vision finally became adjusted to the dark cave, he saw that he was wrapped in thick, white spider string. Only his head poked out from the string suit, and he craned his neck to look around the room. It was a small room, with webbing covering the walls. There was an exit on the wall opposite from Gretkar, but he had to find his little brother first. "Gruickshak?" he whispered. "Where are you Gruickshak?" He waited for a moment; his only response was his own voice, echoing back to him. He called out slightly louder this time, and then he heard footsteps coming from outside the exit. He heard the groans of Draugr, and the scuttling of spiders. Gretkar squinted so seem s if his eyes were closed, but he could still see in the room only lit by the sunlight peeking through holes in the wall. Gretkar realized that must mean that this room was on the edge of the mountain, and that if they could escape here, they were free. But he still had to find his little brother.

"We caught one…" he heard a raspy voice speak outside the room. "The other one took the axe and ran…" "Dammit…" another, similar voice responded. "Well," it said "we have no use for this one, feed him to the Skeevers and find the other one." Gretkar realized this was it. There was no more hope. His brother was lost in the cave, probably dead or dying, and he was about to be fed by Skeevers. He saw a blue Draugr step into the room, with a large battleaxe in its rotten hand. It stepped over to Gretkar, who now had his eyes fully shut. But then he heard a voice he recognized all too well.

"Let my brother go you sons of bitches!"

The deafening roar of an angry orc rang throughout the cave, and Gretkar opened his eyes to see Gruickshak standing there, with a dead Draugr at his feet, with his longsword in one hand, bright red Brekyeir in the other. Two more Draugr rushed into the room, and Gruickshak easily took them down. He knelt down beside Gretkar and began slicing through the webbing.

"Oh great, NOW you come!" Gretkar said jokingly. Gruickshak just grumbled and kept cutting through. Eventually, the webbing broke, and Gretkar stood up. He felt a rush of blood to his head, and he passed out on the floor, unconscious…

Out of the darkness of his own unconscious, Gretkar saw a Draugr emerge from the shadows. It was adorned in ancient Nord armour, with glistening jewels embedded in its surface. The creature wore a bone crown, and carried a large sword, with serrated edges on either side.

"Fool orc…" it said, its voice like a whisper from death. "You came with my masters' axe, but you refused to let him have it…" It constantly walked closer, its boots clinking against the black floor. "We will pry it from you though… we will destroy every village in our path until we have Brekyeir… I don't understand why you defend it so boldly…" The Draugr grinned, revealing black, rotten teeth. "Your boldness with be your downfall, mark my words…" the Draugr vanished into the shadows, and Gretkar felt himself slipping away. He gradually became very cold, and when he came to, he found that he was buried under a snowbank. He twisted his head to see the big ugly face of his brother, who was also buried under the snow.

"Sssh…" Gruickshak whispered. "We're cama-flogged…"

"Where's Brekyeir?" Gretkar demanded. "Is it safe?"

"I have it here…" Gruickshak whispered. "But I lost my sword…"

Gretkar heard the shouts and curses of Draugr in the distance. The shouts quieted eventually, then ceased altogether. "What happened?" Gretkar asked. "I hit the wall with your axe, and the wall ex-poded, so I picked you up and jumped out, then I buried us in snow so that we could be cama-flogged." Gretkar grinned. He had to admit that hiding under the snow was a good move on his brothers' part, and that he was able to descend a mountain while carrying a full grown orc on his back. They dug out of the snow, and stood up, looking up at the twisted form of the Bleak Falls Barrow. Its once majestic form now seemed demonic to Gretkar, and he wanted to leave this cursed place as soon as possible.

"We have to get to Riverwood…" Gretkar told his brother. "Now…"

Gretkar and Gruickshak arrived at the gates of Riverwood, cut, bruised, and in a rather foul mood. They walked through the gates, and were immediately confronted by guards.

"What are you doing here, so heavily armed?" the guard said, pointing at Brekyeir. "We just came from the Barrows…" Gretkar said. "We must see Ralof…" the guard nodded and walked off to fetch Ralof. Gretkar looked up at the Barrows again. The entire mountain seemed alive now, like every living and unliving thing in the dungeon was moving around, preparing for…war.

The guard returned, with Ralof beside him. Ralof scowled when he saw the two orcs. "I knew it! Your kind brings nothing but trouble!" he growled. "Where'd you get those wounds?" he demanded.

"We were at the Barrows!" Gretkar answered. "The Draugr are awakened, and they're coming out!" he panted, out of breath. Ralof laughed, crossing his arms. "The Draugr are mindless monsters. They aren't capable of organizing an army!" Gretkar held up Brekyeir, which was no longer glowing. "This axe somehow controls them! It belongs to something living in the mountain that needs the axe returned!" he handed Ralof the axe, who took it unwillingly. "Just feel it… you will understand what I mean."

Ralof gasped, and his eyes stared straight ahead. He suddenly dropped Brekyeir on the cobble road, and his guard rushed to his side. "What is it sir?" he said, touching his captains shoulder, who brushed his hand off, shaking his head. "It's nothing…" he said. "I want the entire guard on watch tonight…" he looked at the orcs "And for these two… "He ordered. "Lock them away." Gruickshak roared and readied his fists, but Gretkar held his brother back, and told him to stay still. They were both cuffed, and led into the jailhouse, with Gruickshak shouting and cursing.

"They will come…" Gretkar said solemnly to Ralof as he locked them in their cell. "And when this village burns, you will regret this…"


	7. Chapter 7: The battle for Riverwood

_It all ends now… my Draugr will go down to Riverwood, and reclaim my axe…_

_When I have it back, Skyrim will know the wrath of Drakudiir, the undead Dragon!_

Gretkar and Gruickshak sat in the Riverwood jail cell, watching the sun go down.

"You're making a mistake!" Gretkar shouted to the guard down the hall. "They will come at midnight! You need us!" the guard kept staring at the wall is if he couldn't hear them. Gretkar looked across the hall at Brekyeir, which was hanging on a weapon rack just out of arms reach, even for an orcs' abnormally long arms. Suddenly, the door to the jailhouse swung open, and Ralof, in his blue Stormcloak armour, walked in, brushing snow off his clothes.

"So where's your Draugr, orc?" Ralof jeered, moving to stand in front of their cell. "My men are getting tired. If nothing happens in an hour, I'm sending them to bed!" Gretkar and Gruickshak stood up, towering over the captain of the guard, on the other side of the bars.

"You can't do that!" Gretkar shouted. "When you touched the axe, you felt it too! There's more to that mountain that you think! You're just too afraid to confront it!" Gretkars' tone quieted. "I've heard the stories… I heard that you escaped the dragon at Helgen! I know you're not a coward Ralof! You have to set us free!" Ralof looked at the padlock, touched it, and then pulled his hand back. He looked at the orcs, then without saying a word, turned and left the jailhouse. Gretkar sat down again, and placed his palms in his hands. They sat there, silently, until Gretkar thought he could hear shouting. He heard men shouting and running, and the guards in the jailhouse rushed out, with their swords drawn. A horn sounded, and Gretkar and Gruickshak could do nothing but sit and listen.

All of a sudden, the door swung open and Ralof barged in, grabbing the keys off the weapons rack. Ralof stormed over to the orcs' cell, and twisted the key, unlocking the cell. "Don't expect an apology, don't expect me to kiss your ass, but the Draugr did come, and I'm calling an emergency draft. Since you two are men in Riverwood, you're being drafted. No more, no less." He swung the gate open, and let them out. Gruickshak grabbed and Iron sword on the wall, and Gretkar took Brekyeir. The three left the jailhouse, and made their way down the road to the north gate. Men were lined up behind the wall, dressed in junky armour wielding pitch forks and stone swords.

"These aren't warriors…" Gretkar thought aloud. "These are farmers, lumberjacks…" he noticed Sven, the lute player from the inn, standing with the ranks, shaking with fear. "…minstrels." He concluded. "It's all we got." Ralof said as they climbed the wall. Gretkar looked into the distance, and saw the army of Draugr marching down the mountain. They had at least twice as many Draugr as Riverwood had men, and Gretkar looked down at the sorry lot. His brother stared ahead at the undead forces, with a look of confidence in his eyes. Ignorance is bliss, Gretkar thought.

Gretkar turned to the farmers and blacksmiths, and addressed them. "Soldiers of Riverwood!" he shouted. "You have no reason to trust me, or to listen to me. I know my kind is not welcome here, but I implore that you listen to my words! The Draugr are coming, and they have twice as many forces as we do!" Ralof interrupted him. "You're supposed to be encouraging them, not frightening them!" Gretkar kept on going, ignoring him. "You know what that means? That means every one of you will kill at least two Draugr tonight!" The men cheered, raising their weapons in the air. "They have the upper hand, because it is night time, and the undead do not need light to see! Therefore, you will stay close to the walls, and let your enemies come to you! The move in swarms, so always make sure that there is an ally behind you, not an enemy!" He raised Brekyeir above his head, which was glowing bright red, illuminating the night sky. "Your families are counting on you tonight! Your village is counting on you tonight! If you've defeated the empire, you sure as hell can defeat these undead slime!" The men cheered, a new courage planted in their hearts. They did not stop cheering and waving their weapons until the enemies were on their doorstep. Gretkar looked out into the horde, their jaws hanging loosely, with their ancient weapons hanging by their sides. At the back of their ranks, Gretkar saw a horrifying sight. It was the Draugr king from his dream at the back, with the jewels and the sword and all.

"Bring Brekyeir to me and we will leave peacefully!" the King shouted in its raspy voice. "We swear on our ancient honour! Many of our men were from Riverwood, and we would not want to hurt a fellow nord!"

Gretkar looked down at his axe, and over at Ralof. Ralof was frowning, deep in thought. Gretkar was preparing himself to give his brother his final goodbyes and to leave peacefully, but Ralof stepped over to the edge of the wall, and shouted out into the night:

"You want this rusty axe? Come and get it!"

The Draugr charged, and the men rushed out to meet them. The battle began, and the Nords fought with a ferocity that Gretkar never expected. Ralof and the orcs rushed down to support their troops, and they quickly joined the fray. Gretkar immediately engaged one Draugr, fighting it hard, and by the time he had downed his foe, his little brother had a pile of corpses surrounding him.

"Orc!" Gretkar heard Ralof shout. He looked over to see Ralof locked in combat with the Draugr King, and he rushed to his aid. He tripped on a corpse and went sprawling into the mud, and when he looked down, his heart sank. The bard, Sven, was laying on his back, his empty eyes staring into space, with a longsword plunged into his chest. Gretkar quickly stood up, and ran back to Ralof. He fought his way through the Draugr, and when he reached Ralof, it was far too late. The Draugr King was standing above Ralof, who was kneeling infront of him. "I'm sorry…" Gretkar heard him say over the noise of the ongoing battle. The thick blade of the Kings longsword emerged from Ralofs' armour, coated in blood. Ralof fell over, blood spilling from his mouth. Gretkar shouted in anguish and anger, and charged forward, waving Brekyeir furiously. His axe clashed with the Draugrs' sword, knocking it back. It swung back, but Gretkar rolled away, and dug Brekyeir into its hip. The Draugr swung its sword down, and Gretkar screamed in pain as his hands were separated from his arms. He fell back, holding back more screams. He was not going to give the Draugr the satisfaction of seeing his fright. But deep down inside, behind his orcish blood, he was terrified for his life. The Draugr raised its sword, and plunged it into Gretkars' stomach. He did not scream, he did not cry, he just gasped, spitting out blood. He saw his two limp hands lying in front of Brekyeir, which was dim again. The Draugr knelt down to pick up the axe, and began to lift it, when another, hairy arm grabbed it as well. The Draugr looked up to see Gruickshak holding the axe, and the two began a little tug-o-war. The Draugr pulled, its ancient muscles literally popping, and Gruickshak pulled back, twice as powerful. Finally, Gruickshak pulled as strong as possible, and the Draugrs' arm gave way. Its blue arm was torn straight out of its shoulder, and Gruickshak flung it across the battlefield. The Draugr showed no pain, and threw a punch, breaking Gruickshaks nose. He simply turned his head back, blood dripping from his face, and growled. Gruickshak spun around with Brekyeir, and cleaved the King in two, sending blue blood flying. The two halves dropped to the ground, still moaning. "Drakudiir will come…" the undead creature whispered. "He will be reunited with Brekyeir, and then he will be set free…" Gruickshak ended its monologue by caving its skull in. He then dropped to his brothers' side, placing his hand on his brothers wound.

"You make me so proud…" Gretkar whispered. "When I go up, I'll tell father how brave you are, okay?" Gruickshak was sobbing, trying desperately to clean the wound with cloth from his tunic. "You just keep yourself well cama-flogged okay?" Gretkar smiled, and Gruickshak laughed through his tears. "And no matter what anybody says, you're a genius, got that?" Gruickshak smiled, and lay down beside his brother, placing his head on Gretkars' chest, his head rising and sinking with his brothers' breathing. Then his head lifted, lowered, and stopped. He heard the faint beating of Gretkars' heart, and then it disappeared, and everything was silent, even the ensuing battle…

Gruickshak walked through the streets of the Black Marsh, with his trusty battle-axe Brekyeir by his side. He had tattered clothes, broken armour, and a light coin purse jingling on his belt. It had been a year since the battle of Riverwood, and he had been traveling Tamriel since. He had gone from city to city in Cyrodiil, High Rock, Hammerfell, and the Black Marsh. He made coin selling trinkets and jewels, but he never sold Brekyeir. He still had no idea what significance it had for his brother, but that didn't matter for him. This axe was all he had to remember his brother by, even if he was dirt poor because of it…

And that was perfectly fine with him.

THE END OF THE ORC AND THE AXE


End file.
